


A Little Late

by GreenRogue



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Actor Sam Winchester, Domestic Fluff, Episode: s01e16 Shadow, Forgetful Dean Winchester, Gen, High School, John Winchester A+ parenting, Sad Sam Winchester, Teen Dean Winchester, Teen Sam Winchester, forgetful John Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:01:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25322821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenRogue/pseuds/GreenRogue
Summary: "What was that play that you did, that, what was it, uh, Our Town. Yeah, you were good. It was cute."A look back at a high school moment between brothers.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 47





	A Little Late

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little fluffy something, something. Felt like being nice for once to our boys--don't get used to it ;) --
> 
> As always I do not own SPN or the characters, i just like to play with them

* * *

“Don’t forget to lay your salt lines and check the locks before you go to bed. Do your homework, do your training and—”

“Watch out for Sammy, yes Sir.” John looked at his eldest for a hot minute before shaking his head and went back to stuffing the last of his clothes in his ratty duffle. “He’s been more—agitated then normal Dean. Just make sure he behaves. I’ll be back by the end of next week.” Dean nods silently as he half watches his father and the dinner he’s got cooking on the hot plate on the counter. He was **well** aware of Sam’s souring mood. Ever since their Dad had said he was heading out on a hunt; it was like all of the kid’s happiness or something was sapped out. Dean’d thought Sammy would be happy that they were getting to stay a little longer so he could finish school before summer break. But lately nothing seemed to make that kid happy. Dean sighed to himself before lowering the temperature on their food and turned to give his Dad his full attention.

“It’s just hormones or something Dad, he’s a teenager. He’ll grow out of it.” John nodded his head absently as he thumbed through a few of his final notes before stuffing them in with his clothes. Zipping the bag closed, John hauled it over his shoulder before giving Dean a final look.

“Obey the rules, I’ll see you in a week.” Dean nodded and followed his Dad to the door, locking and deadbolting it once he was through. He peered through the curtain for a few moments, watching as his Dad flung the duffel into the passenger seat of his pickup and started the engine. The taillights faded in the distance and for a second Dean was a little envious of their father, the school year was always the hardest. He was stuck at home base, doing school work that would never apply to his life while their Dad went out hunting, with no one to watch his back—wouldn’t matter much longer anyway, soon he’d be done with high school. Done with the whole nonsense that Sam insisted he complete even though he found it useless and didn’t show up for half the time anyway. There were more important things to life than calculus or biolo—

“He’s gone then?” Dean startled slightly at the sound of Sam and his mood soured slightly at the hint of hurt feelings.

“Yeah Sam, he’s gone now. You can stop hiding, great way to see your father off before he goes on a hunt. –Dinner’s on the counter.” Dean could see the slight hunch in the kid’s shoulders and knew he should feel guilty about the barb but, dammit Sam had to learn at some point. His own agitation rising, Dean crossed the small room to grab the Impala’s keys before sliding on his jacket.

“Wh—where are you going?” Dean turned to look at Sam, his face a shield of irritation.

“Out Sam, I can’t believe your being so stubborn about Dad leaving that you didn’t even come out to say goodbye. I love you kid but sometimes you can be so selfish. I can’t be here right now I’m so done with this—”.

“B-but I thought—” Dean waved his hand at Sam as he turned and opened the door, a clear dismissal in his body language as he stalked out of the room. The kid’s constant mood swings, his needling for fights with Dad—he just needed a little breather for a while. He heard the door shut quietly behind him but didn’t pause as he climbed in his baby and revved her engine. He did glance at the room’s window for a second, the harsh glow from the fluorescent lights stayed on for a few more minutes before the room went dark. Shaking his head, Dean backed out of the parking lot and mapped out the route to the closet bar. A night of drinking and hustling sounded exactly like what the doctor ordered.

* * *

It had been about an hour since he strolled into Duke’s Sports Bar and Grill. Not their normal forte granted, but the beer was cheap on Wednesday nights and most of the patrons were the desperate sort of idiots who were easy to hustle a few games against.

He was up two rounds when he felt a clap on his back and he turned quickly, fingers itching to grab the pocketknife hiding under his shirt to warn off the intrusion to his personal space.

“Hey Dean, fancy seeing you here! God, how awful was that Geography test today? I think I tanked it.” Dean slightly relaxed when he saw it was just Colton, a friend that had latched on the moment Dean and strolled into class a few weeks ago. Dean forced a laugh and tried to fight back the eye roll as he turned back to his game.

“Yeah, real killer that one.” Silently he patted himself on the back as he sunk another ball, his opponent to drunk to really notice as he watched the basketball game play on the overhead TVs—yeah these were easy pickin’s—

“—I’d thought you be at the school by now for the play.” Dean tuned back into Colton’s voice just as he shot another score, half turning his head he busied himself with the next shot.

“Sorry what now?” From the corner of his eye, Dean saw Colton give him a shocked expression before nervously laughing.

“Our Town—the, the school play. Dean—the play your _brother_ is in! What, he not tell you and your folks?” Dean scratched the ball as he jolted back into full awareness. Play— **play—**

****

**_“_ ** _Hey Dad?” Sam’s voice sounded small and Dean instantly was alert as he looked up from the TV. He watched as his brother’s tall frame seemed to hunch in on itself a little as he shuffled closer to their Dad. He waited, fidgeting from foot to foot for their Dad to acknowledge him and Dean raised an eyebrow at the odd display._

_“Dad, uh, co-could I talk to you a second?” John grunted but kept his eyes focused on the papers in front of him. Dean watched as Sam seemed to steel his nerve for a second and take a deep breath. “There’s this play, at school—one of the, uh, kids can’t be in it anymore. Something about appendicitis and missing too many rehearsals. They say he’s fine but won’t be—”_

_“Sam, your rambling—” John muttered, and Sam ducked his head to hide his flush of embarrassment._

_“Right, uh, anyway—so I auditioned for his part and I got it. Opening night is a few weeks away, on a Wednesday. Wou—would you come? Please?” By now both of Dean’s eyebrows were raised in shocked surprise. Not only had Sam—crippling shy Sam—auditioned for some school play, but now here he was asking their father to attend the opening night. Like they were normal or something—_

_It took a lot to keep Dean from shaking his head and laughing at the silliness of the whole thing, but what really floored him was when John looked up at Sam and gave him a soft smile._

_“Yeah Sam—I’ll be there”._

_A week later and there was a flyer on their mini fridge, showing some photoshopped picture of the cast, nights outline the play was showing. Sam’s name was dead center along with his smiling face. He’d put it on the fridge with only a little hesitance before smiling at his Dad’s back and walking away. For days Dean dealt with Sam’s chattering about the after-school rehearsals and practice runs, until finally John had snapped for some peace and quiet and that was that._

Dean can’t remember Sam bringing it up again, just the occasional glances at the flyer on the fridge and the subtle reminders Sam would toss out randomly.

“Don’t forget, two weeks—”

“It’s Wednesday at 9:00—”

“Tomorrow’s the big day—"

Dean grabbed Colton’s wrist to stare at his watch 8:30, shit. Tossing the cue stick, Dean grabbed his winnings and was hustling out the front doors. The sounds of Colton’s laugh and the drunkards angry rambling chasing his heels as he rounded the Impala and rushed back to the motel room.

The light was still off when he squealed into the parking space and dread was settling low in his stomach. Ignoring the looks from the other motel guests, he jammed his key into the door and nearly fell into the living space while calling out Sam’s name.

“Sammy! Sam, you here?” his eyes glanced over the empty beds and the dark bathroom, settling on the now empty fridge door. He crinkled his eyes in guilt and swallowed down rising heat in his throat. No wonder his mood was going downhill—no wonder his normally expressive and energetic brother was acting like someone had kicked his puppy. He had worked it out long before Dean even recalled—their dad had forgotten—

Glancing down at the garbage basket by the door Dean could see the crinkled torn flyer resting on top, Sam’s wide smiling face stared back at him and he leaned against the door jam heavily, wiping his hand down his face.

“Aw Sammy—“. Dean looked around the room one more time before glancing at the digital clock next to the bed. 9:01. If he hurried—Barely a thought before he was already slamming and locking the door and rushing back to the Impala. It took 10 minutes to get to the high school by car, Sam must have hoofed it earlier. Adding another tally into the column of “messed up tonight big brother”, he pushed Baby to rush, making it to the school’s lot in less than 5.

The sneaking in wasn’t hard, it was the finding a seat that was the real trick. The back wasn’t an option with the layer of teachers milling in and out, the front was a no go either with the stage lights illuminating the first few rows, Sam would be sure to catch Dean arriving late.

Instead he opted for right in the middle, next to an older couple who smiled at him as he sat down quietly. The old lady leaned towards him and whispered in his ear,

“You didn’t miss much; the stage manager character just finished his first monologue.” Dean smiled a thanks, having no idea when to expect and turned his gaze as the first few performers walked on stage.

He’s not sure what he’s watching—so far the play seems—mundane—boring. From what he can gather it’s a play about, normal life? Really Sam? Where even is Sam? Dean huffs a little to himself and shifts on the uncomfortable hard chair as he watches the character, Howie, pretend he’s delivering milk, the tinny sounds of glass clinking comes from the speakers around them and Dean grits his teeth. Sam better actually **be** in this play or so help him he was running laps all weekend.

Suddenly the stage went dark and Dean sat up slightly, hunter instincts kicking on as his eyes tried to peer into the darkness. Again, the old woman leaned over, a mischievous smile gracing her lips as she winked at him.

“Act two, my favorite part. I heard they had to recast George. I’m so excited.” The lights slowly illuminated the stage again, and Dean turned his attention back up and blinked in surprise as Sam’s lean form sitting comfortably in a diner chair came into focus. His eyes sparkled in the bright lights as he smiled at the girl sitting in front of him and Dean couldn’t help himself from smiling.

* * *

The rest of the play went by in a blur. Dean watched with slight fascination at the character Sam changed into in front of all these strangers. The easy smiles and bright laughs—the tear jerking sobs when his “wife” passed. He was enamored with this new side of Sammy and was startled when the end snuck up on him, the applause around him jerking him into motion as he stood with the crowd and smiled at Sam’s bowing form. The old couple next to him shouted bravo as Sam took his individual bow along with a few others in the audience and Dean smiled at the blush that crossed Sam’s face.

Excusing himself from the row, Dean quickly made his way back out into the empty hall before the auditorium started to follow behind. He stood against the far wall next to the trophy display case and waited patiently while the rest of the patrons filed out, their happy chatter added a nice humming background noise while Dean pondered the enigma that was his brother.

The mood swings made sense now. For as long as Dean could remember, Sam never really asked their father to go to anything school related. The last thing he could recall was a soccer game when Sam had barely started learning about the hunting his family did. John had shaken his head and replied in his gruff no-nonsense tone “There’s more important things out there Sam, now that you know that it’d be better to remember it”. Sam had quit soccer that same week.

Sure, there were other things over the years. Spelling bees, mathletes, Dean thinks there was some sort of mock jeopardy tournament at one school; but he couldn’t recall Sam ever asking Dad to go to any of it. All Dean could remember were the ribbons or small trophies that would mysteriously show up in the back seat of the Impala, or the newspaper articles carefully cut out and pressed between notebooks in an old backpack. This was probably the first school related function that Sam had dared to ask his father to attend—the father that promised to be there—then forgot.

Dean carefully stretched his neck as the crowds thinned around him. It took a little longer before he spotted the mop of brown shaggy hair dodging around a group of teen girls. He smiled as he saw a few of the adults pat him on the back, the clear “congrats” and “well dones” causing the blush to rise higher as Sam smiled politely. He watched for a few more seconds before deciding to help his brother escape the wretched turmoil that was praise from strangers. He sauntered up next to his brother and gripped him carefully on his elbow. Sam startled and turned towards Dean; eyes wide in confusion before they softened to a more bearable tentative hope.

“Dean? Dean what’re you doing here?” Dean smiled politely at the last of the group near them before pulling Sam away gently. His brother followed dutifully, his eyes burrowing holes into the side of Dean’s head. He tried to shrug nonchalantly as they opened the side doors into the cool night air, and he took a deep breath before looking at his brother in the pale light of the street lights.

“Sorry I was a little late Sammy—” He stared into his brother’s eyes, silently hoping he understood what Dean was trying to say.

_‘I’m sorry we forgot, I’m sorry I was an ass, I love you little brother—’_

It took a second, but then a hesitant dimpled smile brightened across his face and Sam shrugged back.

“No worries.”

_‘It’s okay Dean, I forgive you, I love you too big brother—‘._


End file.
